Juanita loves making an entrance. She’s shameless about it. And depending on the circumstance, it can involve a floppy, over-the-top outfit that can only be described as almost clown-like or, on the other hand, as ultimately soignée. Or it may be a knock-out all black sheath, bright red shoes, even more brilliant red lipstick, and black eye shadow. Or it can be as simple as a pratfall entrance into a crowded room, amplified by a flying Champagne glass. In short, Juanita come across as a bit of a character. She’s been called frivolous, an exhibitionist, superficial, an airhead. But, despite those bad reviews, there happens to be a very serious person behind it all. And also, a very serious marketing effort. Juanita makes a very nice living by playing the role that she has purposefully carved out for herself. She writes and stars in a weekly podcast that has close to half a million subscribers. She uses it to promote herself and her particular viewpoints on feminism, style, business, self-promotion, and sex, among other topics. She also appears on television as an expert on “self-branding” and business building. Then, there are lectures, seminars, and, most important of all, product endorsements. She claims that it all started for her when she got fired from her job at a high-tech gaming company. She got that job right out of grad school. Back then, she claims, she was a “mousy little thing,” a “geeky tech-nerd” with a talent for game development and programming, a penchant for hip-hop music, and a fascination with witchcraft. She had graduated high school a year ahead of her class and gone through college in three years. It was always clear that she was pretty smart. What was less clear was how shy and naïve she was back then. If she were interested in a boy (which was often), she would never let on. Too scared and socially inept. She says, back then, the idea of being attractive gave her the creeps. In fact, she says, “I made an effort to be as unattractive as possible. And apparently, I was pretty good at it, wearing these strange, baggy, usually all-black get-ups that made me look even skinnier than I really was. And I was pretty skinny when I was a kid.” She kept this up during and after college and also in grad school. “In a way,” she says, “‘the look’ helped to get me that first tech job. It marked me as a “true geek.” It also kept her a social outcast. That and a tendency not to look anyone in the eye and to mumble. And then, suddenly one day, it all went up in smoke. It turns out she wasn’t fired. She was attacked. Violently. An attempted rape. It happened in a company meditation room. On a workday. At mid-day. Initially overpowered, she fought back, kicked free, and ran screaming, out through the office, her clothes ripped, bleeding from her nose from being punched half unconscious. She made it to her car and was gone. She never went back. There was a hefty settlement. She brooded for a year, went back to live with her parents for a while, and, then, pulled herself together. It took time. How she went from spending days looking out the window in her childhood room to now is difficult to piece together. She got some counseling. She decided to change her look from weird to sort of “normal” which for her initially meant a sweat suit and high-fashion running shoes. She got some freelance jobs. She met a man, Paul, about ten years older than her. At some point, she says, she decided she’d been living an extended childhood before the attack and became an adult in the weeks and months after it happened. That’s when she started to write about growing up and anything else that struck her. Her therapist had suggested it. Paul encouraged it. At first, it was just for herself. But she started a blog. And one thing seemed to lead to another. Thinking back, she was very pleased with herself having fought off her attacker. “I guess I’m tougher than I’d have guessed.” And she found she liked being an adult. So, she wrote about all that. After a couple of years together, she and Paul broke up. She wrote about that. She met Andy and that was it. He was fun. And caring. And inventive. The blog turned into her now-famous podcast series, the lecture tours, the seminars, the TV appearances, and the endorsements. And who knows what else. There are going to be children.
Daisy has a smooth-as-glass façade. She works hard at it. She spends hours on her appearance. Has her hair cut and styled at a chic boutique. Wears designer clothes. Works out and eats an almost starvation, mostly vegetarian diet; meditates religiously; and is very careful about her personal hygiene. She turns up at the hottest clubs, is always in attendance at every major social event. She is also highly organized and very good at her job which is talking knowledgably about contemporary art and selling very expensive artwork to very rich collectors. Don’t let Daisy’s air of sophistication, her apparent self-assurance, or her social skills fool you. And very definitely don’t let her very busy social life lead you to the wrong conclusion. At 28, she has, until two months ago, lived at home with her divorced mother. While she will greet you with apparent pleasure, give you a sparkly big smile and a hug, it is all a ruse. She is terrified of strangers and, in particular, of men she finds attractive. And, for that matter, she is terrified of women she finds attractive as well. She wishes it were somehow different. As she reluctantly admits after glass or three of Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio, her “real” life feels empty. She does not have and, in truth, never has had anything more than a superficial relationship with anyone. And it has to be said, she makes sure it stays that way. Her dates are invariably gay, charming and fun but social props. Or they are self-absorbed hustlers – men who she quite rightly observes are only interested in one thing: “Scoring Miss Daisy.” Or much older men, usually family friends. When she is with girlfriends, she complains bitterly about not finding “the right guy” or about how all men are such pigs. She got that last line from her mother who, after fleeing a marriage to a well-connected but alcoholic man, let herself go for years, cloistering herself and Daisy in a dark house, licking her wounds and filling Daisy with warnings about getting too close to others. So, leaving home for college was a shock, sometimes plain scary, for Daisy. That’s when she developed her smooth-as-glass façade. Always charming and warm, but distant. Her way to take part in the world but to avoid any real involvement in it. And up until recently it worked pretty well. That is until her mother turned everything upside down by getting over her anger and bitterness, fixing herself up, getting out of the house, taking art lessons, and meeting Charlie. He’s fifteen years younger than Daisy’s mother, A polite, thoughtful, and helpful man. A fair tennis player. A moderately successful realtor. Not bad looking either. When Daisy’s mother told her what was up, Daisy went a little nut. It didn’t help that when Daisy’s initial reaction was speechless shock, her mother laughed. “What’s the big deal, Daisy? I’m still young and Charlie is hot.” The next day Daisy said to herself, “Time to move out and get a place of my own.” When she told her mother about her decision, her mother said, “About time.” Charlie, being a realtor and helpful by inclination, found her a great place. She’s worked hard to decorate it in a style that reflects how she wants to be seen. When she isn’t off to some social event, Daisy comes home, makes a few calls to clients in other time zones, reads professional art periodicals, and sits on her post-modern couch waiting for something to happen, what she cannot imagine.